Daughter of the Moon
by Dominatrice
Summary: Before Aragorn, Elrond adopted another. Isilme has now reached her second millenia and is ready to seek the answers to the mystery of who her parents were. Will an encounter with a certain blond Elf help or hinder her? R&R preLOTR
1. Lady SilmeRaana

**Chapter 1**

**A/N: **This is just born from a random idea that popped into my head one night when I couldn't sleep! Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: ** I do not claim to own any of Tolkiens works, characters, plots etc. Anything you don't recognize as Tolkiens is mine! Enjoy…

She spun across the floor, her dress fanning out behind her she twirled and leaped, moving her body, mindless of who was watching. As the lively song came to an end, she stood poised in the middle of the room, elegant, unique, and beautiful. She smiled as applause broke out enthusiastically throughout the room; inclining her head graciously she swept off of the dance floor ignoring the many attempts from the male population to gain her attention.

Stepping outside into the cool night she glanced around her before slipping down the hidden path that took her to 'her' garden. Well, technically it wasn't 'hers', but as far as she knew, nobody else was aware of its existence, so hers it remained.

Sitting down on the stone bench with a small sigh she smiled as she observed the stars. Her little 'show' in the Great Hall came to mind and she grinned broadly, they had never been expecting that. None of them had thought her able to dance; in fact none of them had thought her anything. Before she was thought widely to secretly be of human heritage because of her un-Elvin like clumsiness, but that was just when she was around others. She rarely enjoyed the company of other elves, they didn't understand her.

Humming lightly under her breath she twisted the folds of her beautiful silver and black satin dress in her hands. She remembered their shocked faces when she had entered the ball room in a black and silver ball gown. Everyone else had been in white and gold, blue and green, pinks, reds, yellows all these pretty colours. But she had stood out, she had been different.

Isilme breathed in the many different scents from all the flowers, standing up she dusted off her beautiful handmade dress and proceeded to exit the gardens.

Slipping back into the hall, she made her way up to the front table. Tapping her father lightly on the shoulder she grinned when he whipped round in surprise.

"Isilme! I did not hear you approach!" Raising an eyebrow she let her lips curl into a secretive smile.

"What's this ada? What has happened to your amazing Elvin hearing?" Narrowing his eyes at her he shook his head ruefully.

"I admit it daughter, you have been practicing your stealth skills too vigorously, that I can not hold a candle to you anymore; you have done me proud!" Isilme felt warmth spread through her at his words, so often she strived for his love and pride in her, so often she failed.

They were interrupted by Lord Glorfindal appearing at their side.

"Good evening Lord Elrond, Lady Silme-Raana, how does your evening fair?" Isilme gritted her teeth at the use of her 'name'; she much more preferred the shortened version of 'Isilme'. Suddenly she realized that her father and the Balrog slayer were looking at her quizzically. Blushing she straightened her shoulders and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Elrond smiled cheekily at her.

"Now who's 'amazing Elvin hearing' has gone to pot?" he replied loftily. Isilme's eyes were beginning to hurt from the effort it took not to role them. Shaking his head, Glorfindal muttered something along the terms of 'sweet Eru' and cleared his throat.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your dancing earlier my Lady, I had no idea you possessed it within you to harbor such, such…." He trailed of uncomfortably. This time Isilme did role her eyes.

"Glorfindal, my old friend, just say it, you were going to say 'grace', were you not?" He shifted uncomfortably.

"Just because I choose not to show my 'supposed-to-be-natural' Elvin grace around others, does not mean I do not have it." Sighing she reached across and patted his hand.

"Don't worry Glorfy, I forgive you." She couldn't help but laugh at his reaction to his old nickname from when she was an elfling.

Elrond watched the interaction between his friend and daughter with happiness, to black had been her mood of late. He had his suspicions as to why, but he would not voice them to her, not yet at any rate. He watched, amused by the banter between his adopted and friend. She had not had it easy by any means when he had announced that he was accepting her into his house and under his care.

She had only been a couple of years old when she was found on the borders of Rivendell, next to the bleeding and nearly dead body of her mother. Her mothers' last words to the son's of Elrond were that they would protect her with all that they had. She had left no room for argument, after telling them her baby's name her eyes had glazed over, and she had departed this world to reside in the Halls of Mandos.

Isilme had a few vague memories of her mother, she didn't know who the Father was, only that she had his eyes, for while her mothers had been blue, Isilme's were a silvery grey, hence the meaning behind her name. As she had grew up in Imladris, she had been teased for being adopted, for the colour of her eyes, for everything really, so to amuse herself more than anything, she pretended to be clumsy in front of everyone else, her family knew this was not the case and had often asked why she made more trouble for herself, now they knew why, the other Elves were so shocked at her display of elegance tonight, they would be loathe to talk to her for at least a week, and that was the way she liked it.

The festives had gone on into early morning, but Isilme had retired to her bed at roughly one 0'clock so that she could get away early the next day.

As she hung her dress up and slipped her nightdress on, she couldn't help but grin to herself, she couldn't quite get over the buzz she had gotten from proving them all wrong. Opening the doors leading to her balcony she moved over to the railing and leant on it. Gazing up into the stars she hummed a simple tune under her breath.

The sky was full to bursting with millions of stars, and ruling over them all, was the moon. A full moon smiled down on her, its silvery glow bathing her in ethereal light. She couldn't help but smile at her name sake. That fateful day she had been found beside her dieing mother, she had been wearing a simple, but beautiful silver and mithriel chain, with her name inscribed on it in flowing letters. _'Silme-Ranna'_ which translated directly as 'Silver Moon', but she usually just stuck with the shortened version of 'Isilme' which meant silver.

Closing her eyes and letting the moon bathe her in its radiance she let her thoughts wander to her mission for the following day. She was to set off as early as possible and she was to search the dwelling of her parents. It was a self appointed mission and her adoptive family had tried long and hard to get her to at the least take Elladan and Elrohir with her but she wouldn't. The only one she would have for company was her horse; Morsul. Morsul was her beautiful pure black stallion and one of the Mearas. His name meant The Black Wind in the common tongue and indeed he was. No other horse, even of the elvish stock, could match up to him and he seemed but a blur on the landscape.

Smiling at that thought she turned back to her bed and running her fingers through her waist length black hair she slipped under the covers and slipped into a state of rest. Who knew what the morning would bring.

**A/N2:** Please tell me what you think! The Lord of the Rings are my fave books (and movies) above all and I feel a bit apprehensive about ruining the beautiful world Tolkien created. is worried! please review and give me feedback, I can't wait to hear what you think.

SilverUnicorn66

xXx

She had found Eärwen as a foal beside the waterfall


	2. A Long way To Go

**Chapter 2**

**A/N:** Okay people, thanks to my two reviewers Aganippe and Nival Vixen, you guys rock. To anyone that read, but didn't review, the line under the authors note at the end of the last chapter, about finding a foal by a waterfall… not a CLUE how it got there. It's not in my original document and I'm completely befuddled! However, without further ado, on with the chapter.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rising with the sun Isilme grinned to herself as she went about getting ready. She felt inexplicably happy; today she was finally getting away, away from the oppression of society, of being wrapped in cotton wool by her family. Oh she loved her family dearly, don't get her wrong, but she had always been a solitary Elf; preferring the company of animals, or books as opposed to that of elves her own age. Maybe that is why she had never been accepted, she disturbed them with her aloofness and independence. _Not that it matters now_ she told herself; _I'm getting away from it now, and I'll be free, free from everything that's ever kept me confined!_ Isilme couldn't wait.

Surveying her room one last time, she picked up her long, slightly curved daggers and strapped them onto her back in their special holders. She was deadly with them, Elladan and Elrohir had taught her to use them up to, and surpassing, the level of the guard. Next she slung her quiver of arrows over her back; she had received the beautiful quiver from Elladan last year for her birthday. It was encased in strong, black leather, with designs etched in silver flowing up the sides. The designs were of Elvish script, and said simply; _'Do Not Fear Death, It Is Life That Causes You Pain'_. A saying that Isilme had been quoting ever since she reached a hundred years old. And finally, her matching Bow completed the set. Made out of Ebony it was the same dark black as her quiver with the same designs in silver winding up the wood. Apart from that it was smooth and had been presented to her also on her birthday by Elrohir. Strapping it onto her quiver she picked up her pack and strode out the door, she was ready to begin her new life.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond watched with a slight element of awe as he watched his youngest, and adopted, child make her way down the stairs. Gone was the enchanting Elleth from the night before, in her place stood a Warrior Maiden as from the tales of old. Her raven black hair was pulled back in what he noted as the warrior style of Mirkwood, the top half pulled back and held there with one long, thin braid that lay down the middle of the rest of her hair. She had been studying the customs of others again; he thought wryly. She was dressed in black; black leggings, knee high black leather boots the same as that of Elladan and Elrohir, a black leather tunic which fell to her knees with slits up to the waist allowing for easy movement. And a black undershirt that blended in almost seamlessly with her tunic.

As she caught his eye she smiled brightly and moved slightly faster down the stairs. As she reached him he drew her into a loving embrace and held her close for a few moments, she was so young, having only reached one thousand this year. Holding her at arms length he eyed her critically; high cheekbones accentuated her almond shaped silver-grey eyes and youthful heart shaped face, she was really such a beauty, if only she could see it. He let his hands fall back to his sides with a small smile as she turned at the sound of the twins coming bounding down the hall.

"Remind me how you two ever catch anything on a hunt." She commented dryly arching one dark, elegant eyebrow. Elladan sniffed and tossed his head in mock hurt.

"Do you hear that Ro? She's doubting our hunting capabilities!" Elrohir mimicked his twin, glaring at her through amused dark grey eyes. "How the whelp dare after we taught her everything she knows I can't comprehend Dan. Not at all." Isilme rolled her eyes and murmured an audible prayer to Eru for patience in the face of immature Elflings.

Gaping the twins looked at one another and prepared to pounce on her, but not before Elrond stepped in between them and smiling softly, but firmly, put an end to their play.

"Say your farewells now my children, I have a feeling Isilme wants to be on her way as quickly as possible." Faces suddenly serious both brothers moved in and hugged her simultaneously, whispering in her ears to be safe and take no chances etc etc. Isilme nodded and made affirming noises as was expected of her until they let her go. Smiling brightly she adjusted her quiver strap on her shoulder and made the Elvish bow, fist up to heart and a bow of the head.

"Till next time family of mine!" She exclaimed before turning on her heel and walking out of the doors. Gliding down to the stables she pushed open the barn doors and walked silently down the isle. Stopping in front of Morsul's stable she ran her hand loving down his strong, silky neck before unlatching the door and throwing it open. Walking back down the isle she walked into the sunlight, knowing he would have followed. Seeing many Elves watching her curiously she ignored them as she had done all her life and strapping her small pack to his back, directly behind where she would be sitting she let the excitement begin to show. Picking up on her emotions Morsul reared striking out with his hooves causing many Elves to skirt round him, apprehensive looks on their faces. Rolling her eyes she slapped him lightly on the flank.

"Oh do stop showing of Morsul, I'll never get this done up properly if you don't stand still!" Snorting he did as she requested, standing stock still as she slid the leather strap through the loops on the small pack, under his stomach and up the other side where upon she did it as tight as it would go. After checking that it wouldn't slip, she vaulted onto his back, having no need for saddle or bridle. Turning her head she saw her family clustered at the door; raising one hand in farewell she nodded her head at them and turning Morsul with her knees; she whispered for him to go at all speed. Rearing up again, he screamed his defiance at the world and shot off; the sound of his hooves upon the cobblestones echoing throughout the yard for minutes on end.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Watching Isilme gallop out through the gates of Imladris and out into the world beyond made Elrond's heart ache for a moment. He had not wanted her to go and hunt for answers, but she was determined and who was he to deny her? She would not even accept the company of the twins, and although he was loath for her to go alone, he had understood her need for solitude. He was brought back down the earth as Elladan fingered his belt knife and posed the long awaited question.

"Should we follow her?" But to his surprise, before Elrond could answer Elrohir jumped in before him.

"No Dan." He said, sadness evident in his tone. "We have taught her how to wield her weapons, how to fight hand to hand combat, how to survive in the wild. It is time to let her go now dear brother of mine. She is not the little elfling we used to have to rescue from the torment of others. She is a grown Elleth, and one that needs her independence and solitude." Elladan looked like he might argue for a second, then, bowing his head he sighed in acquisition.

"I know brother, I know. It's just so hard, what with Arwen in Lothlorien, and Isilme gallivanting off trying to find answers and determined to explore all of Arda. I just don't know what to do with myself anymore."

Elrond was in shock, Elrohir had always been the slightly more mature out of the two, yet here they were talking as though they had five thousand years under their belts, as opposed to their two. Could this possibly mean that his sons were growing up? Unfortunately, just as Elrond dared to get his hopes up, the twins brought him crashing and burning by starting a petty argument about who had the better muscle definition. Bowing his head and groaning Elrond abandoned them to their bickering and walked down the steps and into his gardens. Thoughts filled of Isilme he did not notice Glorfindal approaching him until he was almost on top of him.

"Do not fear for her my friend, she can hold her own against the very elite of my soldiers, she will be fine out there." Elrond sighed and continued walking alongside his friend.

"I know Glorfindal, I know. But it does not stop me worrying for her." And so his afternoon continued walking in the gardens and talking with Glorfindal about all that troubled his mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Isilme smiled, she loved the wind whistling through her hair, whipping it about her like a black halo. She loved riding more than anything else, the feeling of Morsul thundering below her lulled her into a comfort zone and gripping loosely with her thighs she relaxed and allowed her body to sway along to the rhythm. After a couple of hours she called to Morsul to slow up slightly into a steadier canter. Tossing his head he obliged and they continued on until night began to draw in. Finding a thicket of tree's and a small clearing she dismounted and began to set up camp.

Taking her pack off Morsul she allowed him to roam the glade and graze, knowing he would not leave her. The nights were not cold as it was in midsummer so she did not bother with starting a fire. Taking off her weapons she laid them near at hand, and after eating some bread and cheese curled up in her cloak and allowed herself to sleep.

The next morning she woke with the sun, raising her arms above her head she stretched out the knots in her back from sleeping on the ground and ate a little bread before attaching her pack to Morsul and strapping on her weapons. Vaulting onto Morsul she pulled her hood up over her head; she had left her cloak on today as opposed to yesterday's brilliant sunshine, today consisted of a fine driving rain. Checking her bearings with the position of the sun she started off in a northerly direction. When she had been found Elrond had sent scouts out looking for where her home might have been in hopes of finding her father, or another family member. They had no luck.

Therefore it was her belief that she must have lived to the north of Rivendell. Her aim was to travel in the direction of Fornost, skirting around Bree and having a general scout around for any signs of derelict Elven like buildings. She knew it wasn't exactly a fantastic way to start, but she was relying more on gut instinct as opposed to solid facts or evidence.

Her journey continued this way for many days. Until, eventually, after days of brilliant sunshine and fine, driving rain, Isilme found herself to be roughly in the region she knew Fornost to be. Slowing Morsul to a gentle trot she let her instincts guide her. Winding her way through a particularly woody part she frowned as she felt a… _pull_ to her left. Guiding Morsul with her knees she allowed herself to be pulled along, often closing her eyes to heighten the sensation so that she could follow it more clearly. After maybe ten minutes of being pulled along the feeling left abruptly, causing Isilme's eyes to snap open with a start. Gazing around curiously she took in every detail until her eyes fell upon it. There, right in the middle of the clearing.

It was a small, quaint structure; made of a dull grey stone it reached only two floors topped by a thatched roof. Isilme stared at it contemplatively for a minute or so. It was a wreck now, although you could tell it had once been well kept and sweet to look at. Ivy grew all over it. Disappearing into open windows and reappearing threw cracks in the walls.

Dismounting gracefully she murmured to Morsul to wait for her. Tossing his head and whickering he began to graze. Making her way over to the wooden door that was hanging off its hinges she chewed he lip thoughtfully. Adjusting her blades on her back she pushed the door open; cringing as it let out a long, wailing creak. Stepping through into the dusty space she let her eyes wander aimlessly across abandoned surfaces and upturned utensils. Walking soundlessly though the house Isilme left no trace of her ever being there, no prints we left in the dust, no cobwebs brushed aside as she made her journey through the wreckage.

Eventually; after what seemed like a lifetime but could have only been a few minutes, she came across a small mostly undisturbed room that could only have been designed for a baby. Smiling softly she reached out and brushed her fingers gently against the ebony cot; with that simple gesture came a rush of memories. She saw a beautiful lady peering down at her, love shining in her sea blue eyes. Next; an Ellon dangling a small animal carving down for her to bat at, blond hair reflecting the sun, silver grey eyes sparkling with mirth. There were many more like these, each flooding her head and remaining to be tucked away for future reference.

After a time, the memories finally stopped flowing and Isilme sank down to the floor; completely baffled by what she had remembered. If her father was a Silvan Elf that could mean he was either from Lothlorien or Mirkwood. Furrowing her brow she mentally viewed the maps she'd long studied in Rivendell. She was in no particular hurry (Hell, she had millennia's!) so she could take the long, scenic route. She could head up to the top end of the Misty Mountains, making sure to avoid Angmar, and then pass down the gap between the Misty Mountains and the Grey Mountains. Where upon she could stick to the side of the Misty Mountains until she reached the Old Forest Road which would take her to the Kingdom of Mirkwood. There she could inquire after her Father; and if there was no record of such an Elf, she would continue straight down to Lothlorien.

With her plan set firmly in mind she picked herself gracefully of the floor and dusted herself off. And that's when the horror set in; she didn't know her fathers name! nibbling her lip in agitation she tried to think of a way round this rather large obstacle. She decided she would just have to enquire of any male Elf that had left Mirkwood to dwell with a Noldor Elleth, or to live abroad of the woodland realm.

Decision made, she left the old dwelling as silently as she had entered it. Looking up as she exited the house, she smiled and shook her head when she did not see Morsul. Rolling her eyes she whistled softly in the perfect imitation of a Blue Finch; listening expectantly she smiled when she heard the rhythmic thud of hooves upon turf.

Isilme could not help but admire Morsul as he appeared in the clearing, so dark he looked almost to have been cut from a starless midnight sky. He moved with a powerful grace, muscles rippling in his neck and hindquarters as he powered towards her. Stopping in front of her he whickered gently, nudging her with his nose. Rubbing him between his eyes she spoke softly to him in Sindarin before checking her pack was still securely attached to him and vaulting on.

She had a long way to go, and all the time in the world to get there.

**A/N2:** Okay people, hope that was okay. Please review! I apologise for any spelling errors etc. But you know… If I get reviews I'll update sooner! Simply because I need the constructive criticism (only constructive mind) and reassurance that there is a point to posting it on here! Thanks!

SilverUnicorn66

xXx


	3. Of Discoveries and Memories

**Chapter Three**

**A/N:** Hey people, still no reviews, apart from my one! Thanks Nival Vixen! Anyhow, I shall continue updating because **I **like this story LOL and for those that are reading, but just can't be arsed to review!

By the way, forewarning, I'm changing the title of this because the direction I'm taking it in has changed and the title is no longer fitting. I will be changing it to 'Daughter of the Moon'. By the time you read this, I might have already changed it. But just in case, here is you're warning. However, I digress! Here is the chapter, for Disclaimer see chapter One, I meant to mention that last chapter as well… woops! Read on….

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been many weeks since Isilme and Morsul had departed from Rivendell, and about half of that since she had stumbled across her old home. Although there had been no solid evidence, her memories when she had touched the cot had been more than enough for her. Summer was coming to a close; autumn on its way. Although it had added some days to her journey, she had gone west of the hilly area of Fornost as opposed to going east of it, for she wanted to avoid Angmar at all costs. Or rather; Angmar of Old as it is now called.

As the hills of Fornost came to an end Isilme could see to the east the mountains looming over the Ettenmoors; having branched off of the Misty Mountains. Shivering slightly she concentrated on the land before her; it was common knowledge that there was still small groups of Orcs and Goblins roaming the land surrounding those mountains and Angmar. Seeing the sun begin to descend from the sky she told Morsul to slow up as she scanned the surrounding area for a possible resting place.

After nearly ten minutes of solid searching she came across a small clump of trees which would shelter her quite effectively from the forceful wind. For all she was an Elf and could not feel the cold she did not appreciate trying to rest with her cloak flapping about her and things flying into her face. Jumping off Morsul's back she relieved him of her pack and began about getting her small meal ready. She had run out of what she had brought with her a week or so ago and had taken to hunting for her food. Setting some rabbit snares she began the process of making a small fire in the hollow of some high roots spreading out from a giant oak. Making sure Morsul was happily settled amongst the trees and well and truly sheltered she settled down to wait for a bit.

After what must have been an hour- hour and a half; she ventured out into the howling wind to check her snares and was rewarded with a brace of conies. Smiling she bent down and removed them; setting them aside as she packed the snares away, careful to not have left anything behind that could endanger any animal without cause. Satisfied that her sharp sight had scanned every inch of the ground that it could she stood up and made her way back to her makeshift camp. Retrieving a small knife from her bag she began to skin the conies while humming an old elvish lullaby under her breath. As she did that she kept an eye on the small pan of water from a nearby stream she had boiling over the fire. Setting aside the parts she didn't need she dumped the chunks of meat in the pan along with some small herbs and roots she had found among the small grove.

When everything was ready she got her small wooden spoon from her pack and began to eat. Not bad for a meal in the middle of nowhere she complimented herself. When she was done she ventured down to the small stream and washed her utensils before hurrying back to her small grove and the protection of the solid oak tree. Huddled in front of her small fire she gathered the remains of the rabbits. Disposing of the innards she used a little of the water form her water flask to wash the blood of the skins. Hanging them over a small branch to dry, she set about getting out her travelling repair kit that she kept for mending tears in her clothes and the like. Seeing that the skins were now mostly dry she got out her small belt knife and began shaping them to the size and shape she needed them to be for gloves. For all elves did not feel the cold, she would be passing through the mountains and as winter came to its head she did not wish to get frostbite and lose her fingers. As unlikely as it was she did not want to risk it.

Once she had the shapes she needed she suspended them over the fire to harden the leathery side of the skin; once that was done she threaded a needle and began the long process of stitching. For all she had always preferred the life of a warrior to that of a maiden, she had to admit that there were advantages to some of the things Elleth's learned. Such as; stitching; cooking; how to make food that should have only been enough for two go around nearly six people etc. There were countless things that came in handy when you were out in the wild somewhere

After nearly two hours she had a complete set of warm winter gloves ready for use. Slipping them on to make sure they fit she nodded in approval and wiggled her fingers around inside. The downy fir was on the inside keeping her fingers quite toasty, while the tough, but supple leather was on the outside to keep the elements out. Smiling she took them off and packed them away, she would not have use of them for a while yet.

By now it was late, the moon high in the sky, the stars twinkling overhead. Adding some more timber to the fire she huddled down in her cloak and after making sure Morsul was grazing contentedly near by allowed her mind to descend into slumber.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Waking with a small start Isilme stretched and rubbed absentmindedly at her lower back, slightly sore from sleeping on a tree root all night. Not bothering with breakfast she decided to just wait until she stumbled across an apple tree. Making sure all the embers were completely out from her already dead fire she scattered the remains and cast some fallen leaves on the ground, to the observer, there had never been anyone there.

Whistling to Morsul she gathered up her pack, checking everything was there, before attaching it to her faithful companion once more. Vaulting up onto his back she thanked Eru that the wind had died down to a gentle whisper, there was nothing more infuriating than trying to read the land when your eyes were stinging from the wind.

Guiding Morsul north with her knees she urged him forwards and could not help the small laugh of joy that escaped, bubbling up over her lips as he leapt forwards and took off at a dead gallop. Gripping with her knees and clutching his long silky mane between her fingers she allowed herself to just go with the flow, enjoying every second of the great beast thundering away beneath her as the world flew by in a swirl of colours.

Many days continued thus; by now she was near the river that, when crossed, would take her into Forodwaith where she would take the pass at Cärn Dûm in between the Misty and Grey Mountains. She could see the river in the far distance, visible only to her elven eyes, a great band of silver adorning the horizon, reflecting the afternoon's sun, stretching as far as the eye could see. That was her aim for the moment.

Maybe it had been the weeks she had spent in safety, of not coming across any other life apart from animals that had dulled her senses and taken her off the alert. Whatever the reason, it did not stop her surprise and horror as she heard a great crashing and banging away to her right. Ordering Morsul to halt she strained her ears as much as she could to hear what was going on. Picking up on the guttural sounds coming from beyond the rise she felt her stomach drop out from beneath her. _Orcs_!

Instantaneously her training kicked in, commanding Morsul into a gallop she headed for a small wooded area north-westerly of her knowing that the band of foul beasts would pick up on the noise. Glancing back over her shoulder she was greeted with the sight of a group of what must have been ten or so Orcs cresting the hill and loping towards her.

Cursing to herself she waited until she was in the thick of the small wood before throwing herself of Morsul and telling him to wait for her at the northern most point of the wood. Tossing his head and snorting he took off like a black arrow into the shadows. Taking a deep breath Isilme jumped up, nimbly catching hold of a protruding branch and quickly scaled the tree until she was hidden in the dense foliage, her midnight black clothes blending in perfectly with the shadows.

Removing her bow from her back she reached a hand back into her quiver and removed one arrow. Fitting it to her bowstring she held it at the ready, absently stroking the black raven feathers bound to the end of the shaft. She didn't have to wait long. Admittedly, she heard them before she saw them, her superior hearing picking up on them minutes before they even reached the wood.

Her heart was thudding painfully in her chest, it might not have been her first time facing Orcs, but it was her first time facing them without someone fighting alongside her; and she had ten to deal with by herself! This, she decided, was not good.

As they came bursting into the small clearing she felt the bile rise up in her throat; the very thought that these _monsters_ were once elves was enough to make her want to weep. However, remembering all of her training she pushed these thoughts far from her mind, distraction was dangerous, distraction meant death.

That whole thought process must have raced through her brain in no more that five seconds for no sooner was that last thought gone through her head than she had raised her bow and fired. She hit her mark dead on; time seeming to slow as the arrow sunk into the creature's eye, its screeches of agony piercing as it sunk to the ground. Nine sets of eyes turned to where the arrow had come from, but Isilme was no long there.

She was in the next tree, and as her second arrow left the bow, she was in the next, and the next, and so on until she had made a complete circuit of the clearing and the remaining two Orcs stood back to back in the middle, snarling as they scanned the tree tops for their attackers. But there was only one. Jumping to the ground she dropped her bow and unsheathing her twin blades used their surprise to her advantage. For all she knew that they outweighed her in strength, she far surpassed them in speed and agility; and to this she would form her attack.

Charging them she snaked out with one blade, making a deep slice in an arm before retreating and dancing around them again. Waiting until one of them was nearly upon her with his heavy sword she then ducked and spun away using the momentum to carry her upwards and into a block as the other brought his weapon down in a hacking motion. Spinning away she landed a kick to the chest of the first Orc, before completing the turn and thrusting her blade into the chest of the second. Wrenching her blade free she exchanged a few parry's and thrusts with the remaining attacker before seizing her chance and going in for the kill. As her blade, flashing silver in the light, sunk into his neck she grimaced at the look of shock and surprise on the Orcs face. She could not help but wondering that if those elves had not been captured and tortured by Morgoth all those eons ago, would she have just killed? Would she be covered in black, sticky blood, as the last breaths of life fled the thin, mutated lips of that _abomination_? She did not know, and for once, her inquisitive mind did not wish to dwell on such things.

Wrenching her dagger free she wiped them clean for the most part on the grass and sheathed them until she could find a stream to wash them properly. Sighing to herself she went around pulling her arrows free from the dead beasts checking to see if any were damaged. Thankfully, only one was damaged beyond repair; the shaft having snapped when the Orc fell to the ground. Replacing the remaining arrows in her quiver she retrieved her bow from where she had cast it aside and strapped it to her back again.

That done she began took to the trees again, not wanting to risk coming across any more Orcs. Glancing up through the leaves she studied the position of the sun before heading in what she judged to be a northerly direction. Running along the great boughs of the trees and leaping across seemingly impossible gaps brought a tiny thrill to her. Often when she had been younger Elladan and Elrohir would play hide and seek with her in the wood, and always she would use the trees to hide her.

After a couple of minutes she saw daylight seeping round the edges of the trees and slowed her furious pace to a gentle jog. Pausing a couple of trees back from the edge Isilme whistled her imitation of a Blue Finch and waited expectantly for the answering whinny. Nothing. Frowning she whistled again; this time for longer and louder. Straining her ears against the breeze she tried to hear something, anything. Then there it was. The faint, rhythmic sound of hooves upon turf. Frowning she waited, there was no knowing for sure if it was Morsul coming towards her or another traveller in these strange, empty lands.

After a few minutes a black horse came into view in the distance. She was positive it was Morsul, her elven sight was enough to grant her that, but she waited until he was at the tree line before jumping down to meet him.

"And where did you go?" she growled in Sindarin. "You should have come straight away. You have no excuse, as one of the Mearas you could have been here in five seconds! Never mind five minutes!" But it appeared the great animal was paying no mind to her irate rant; whickering in agitation he weaved back and forwards, eyes rolling as he tried to desperately gain her attention. Finally noticing that her horse was anything less than happy she frowned and moved towards him, speaking calmly in Quenyan, the ancient tongue of the elves, spoken by few, knowing that the deep, flowing language would calm him faster than anything else.

It worked, after a fashion. He ceased his pacing and weaving, settling instead for standing still and snorting wildly as his eyes rolled, showing the whites if his eyes.

"What's got you so upset my love?" she whispered soothingly. Suddenly it dawned on her. "You want to show me something don't you." It was statement, not a question. Without further ado she swung herself up onto his back and held on as he took off like an arrow over the plains.

After a few minutes the dropped down over a crest and into a small valley. Slowing to a trot, Morsul carefully picked his way over some rocks and then stopped in front of a small clump of bushes, lowering his head he blew softly through his nostrils, pawing at the ground with his hoof. Frowning Isilme slid off his back, before crouching down net to the bushes and searching for what was causing her horse such distress. It took mere seconds for her elven eyes to pick up the small bundle of fur curled up among the dead leaves and twigs. A set of amber eyes peered warily at her over the tops of small, grey paws. Fantastic; a wolf cub.

Glaring at Morsul she moved further towards the small, grey bundle of fluff. Murmuring softly in Sindarin she gently outstretched one hand; giving the cub a chance to sniff her fingers, and get her scent. After a few moments where the cub had not tried to eat her she shuffled further forward, picking the small form up in her arms and gazing down into curious amber eyes. She felt her heart constrict. She felt an alikeness to this small, helpless creature. She had been discovered similarly all those years ago and had been equally has helpless, in need of love, support, kindness.

She would care after the cub until he was ready to run wild again. The fact that she had always held a fondness for wolves didn't hurt his case either. Standing up she removed her cloak from her shoulders, having no real need for it, and wrapped the small cub up in it. Checking under its tail, which was met with a growl of protest, she affirmed that it was, in fact, male. Swinging herself up onto Morsul's back she cradled the cub in her arms and nudged Morsul with her heels to go. Mindful that his mistress was carrying a burden he clambered carefully out of the rocks valley and then set off at a smooth canter across the grassy plain.

Isilme looked down at the cub in her arms. At first he had wiggled about an awful lot, but with a sharp command to stop in Sindarin he had settled down begrudgingly in her arms and drifted off to sleep. It was obvious he was the runt of a litter. Her inspection of his teeth told her he was at least a month old, but he was still small enough to be picked up in her arms; therefore the only explanation was that he was a runt, and particularly small one at that. Shaking her head Isilme smiled slightly in relief as she saw them approaching the river that divided Arnor from Forodwaith. She decided they would cross the river then camp among the small hills that were just across from the river.

Roughly an hour later Morsul slowed to a more stately canter and splashed knee deep through the crystal clear water. As he trotted though the small valleys in between the hills Isilme kept an eye out for a sheltered place they could stay. After a few minutes she spotted a hollow in the lower side of a hill, large, with overhanging roots and bushes climbing up the outside and nearly covering the entrance. It was times like this she loved her elvish sight.

Dismounting proved to be slightly awkward as Isilme attempted to do so without waking up the sleeping cub. After a small struggle where Isilme had to ask Morsul to lower himself to his knees she was finally off with a still sleeping wolf in her arms. Walking into the hollow she was pleasantly surprised to see that it was indeed quote large and went relatively far back into the hill. Calling for Morsul to follow her in she lay the cub down by one wall and made a quick investigation of the space, making sure she wasn't going to encounter a sleeping bear or the like. When satisfied that the hollow was completely uninhabited Isilme set off to find something to eat. Commanding Morsul to stay and watch over the cub she headed back to the river that they had just crossed. After several minutes walking she was upon it again. Removing first her arrows, she cleaned the black blood of the tips and checked the feathers on the end before replacing them in her quiver. Removing her twin knives she grimaced at the amount of blood caked onto the length of them. Tearing off a small piece of her undershirt she folded it up into a pad and began to scrub.

After nearly half an hour she had them both back to their previous state of cleanliness. Washing the remaining spots of blood off the black marble hilts she stopped to admire them. She had had them for over one thousand years, and never did they lose their beauty to her eyes. Long, slim black marble hilts met with even longer, slightly curved silver blades. The tempered steel glinting in the afternoon light as the Elvish inscriptions ran up the sides, matching that of her bow and quiver. Smiling she sheathed them again before reaching back into her quiver and re-drawing an arrow. Searching the sky her sharp sight picked up a small flock of pheasant flying low over the hills. Thinking again, she reached back and retrieved a second arrow, fitting both to her bow she aimed carefully and fired. Two shapes fell with a thud to the ground. Smiling she walked towards where they had dropped and after collecting her arrows picked the birds up by their legs and walked back to the hollow. Ducking under the vines she smiled as she saw Morsul lying down at the far end of the hollow steadily watching the cub which was now awake and watching the great, black horse just as warily. Laughing softly to herself she gathered some dry twigs and leaves and started a fire. At first the cub yelped in fright and tried to get away from the strange phenomenon but Isilme scooped him up and whispered to him soothingly in Quenyan, before letting him curl up next to her on the floor.

Smiling softly to herself she scratched between his ears before setting about removing the feathers from the birds. After beheading them and tossing the heads to the cub to play with she skewered them both on a long stick and suspended them over the fire. She glanced back in amusement at the sight of the small wolf crouching on the floor, jaws salivating as he made ready to pounce at the tasty morsels. Laughing out loud she batted him down and tapped him on the nose.

"Baw!" She said, pushing his nose down again. Ears laid back he sat back on his hunches, eyes wide in hurt and confusion before twinkling with mischief as he pounced on her. Laughing she pushed him off tickling his belly as he yelped in delight. No! 

Commanding him to sit she waited until he complied before checking to see if their meal was ready yet. The smells coming from the cooking pheasants was making her mouth water, and the sight of the juice running down the sides and hissing as it hit the fire made her want to just dig in with no thought to manners or etiquette. However she made herself wait until she was absolutely positive they were done before twisting a leg off one chucking it to the cub, and twisting the opposite leg off for herself. Chewing on the leg she savoured the slightly smoky taste it had acquired from being cooked over an open fire outdoors. The two of them together made short work of the two birds, and when they were done she donated the carcasses to the cub; smiling as he crunched the bones up between his powerful jaws.

Taking the makeshift frame down that she had used to suspend the pheasants over the fire she broke it up and added the sticks to the fire. Taking a drink from her water flask she made a mental note to refill it at the river the next day before they set off. Telling Morsul to come and go as he pleased she watched him walk out and trot down to the river for a drink. Keeping an eye out in case they had any unwanted visitors she waited until he was back outside the entrance and grazing before settling down next to fire ready for rest. She was just relaxing and allowing her mind to shut down when she was jostled out of her half sleep by a small, furry specimen snuggling into her chest. Looking down in shock she was met with the sight of the small cub nestled into her chest as his eyes gazed adoringly back up at hers. He appeared to be grinning, with his black lips pulled back over white fangs, his pink tongue lolling out the side. Reaching up he gave her a quick lick on the nose before burrowing his head into the crook of her neck and settling down.

Still staring at him in shock Isilme didn't quite know what to make of the situation. She had gathered that being the runt of the litter he had not been able to keep up with the pack and had therefore been left behind. Sad as it was Isilme appreciated, unlike others, the need to survive. When you were an animal living in the wild you did what you could to live. If you were being held back by a dead weight, you got rid of it. That was the way of it. It didn't stop it being sad though, just understandable. Deciding to let it go she laid her head back against her pack and let herself slip into sleep, knowing that Morsul would wake her if their was any danger.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day Isilme awoke wondering what the dead weight in her arms was. Looking down she jumped in surprise of having a sleeping wolf cub in them before memories of the previous day flooded her mind. A battle with Orcs, Morsul finding the cub, going to sleep with him curled up in her arms. Shaking her head in amazement at the odd things that could happen to you she gently disentangled herself from the fur ball and stood up, making her way over to the mouth of the hollow. Watching the sunrise Isilme basked in the feel of the sun rays caressing her skin. Raising a hand in farewell at her namesake as it faded from the sky she headed down to the river, water flask in hand, to start the day anew.

When she was all packed up and no evidence that anyone had ever been there remained Isilme stroked Morsul tenderly thanking him silently for everything he had done for her and would do in the future. Picking up on her emotions he gently butted her with his head, dismissing it as unnecessary. Grinning to herself she remembered the day they had found each other; all those years ago.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Isilme laughed as she ran from her brothers through the woods. They had agreed to play hide and seek with her today, and she knew just the place to hide where they would never think to look. Bursting into a clearing her laughter stopped abruptly as she took in the scene in front of her. Orcs scattered the clearing, their eyes all turned on her as they slowly advanced; weapons raised above misshapen heads as they licked thin, black lips._

"_Looks like dinner found us early lads." One gloated in a deep guttural voice that sounded as though it was not used to being used. _

_Opening her mouth she screamed for Elladan and Elrohir, hands fumbling at her belt for her dagger that she was allowed to carry in the woods. Holding it out in front of her, her cheeks reddened as they laughed and mocked her._

"_Would you look at that!? She's even brought a tooth pick for us to use!" Scowling Isilme listened desperately for the sounds of her brothers coming to her rescue. But there was nothing. _

_Just as the tears of frustration and desperation began to blur her vision a great black shape bust into the glade, scattering various orcs that didn't move fast enough. Screaming its defiance it planted itself between Isilme and the orcs. Isilme blinked, that 'big black shape' was a horse! And if she was correct, one of the Mearas. Standing tall at roughly eighteen hands she confirmed it to be a him before getting over her shock and leaping at the proffered opportunity. Sticking her knife behind her belt she took a running jump and vaulted up onto his back, scrabbling slightly to swing her leg over his broadness. She had barely gotten herself safely on before he pivoted on his hocks and took off into the trees. She passed Elladan and Elrohir in a blur of colours, shouting over her shoulders about Orcs, barely catching their acknowledging nods and shocked faces before gripping tightly to the long silky mane flying about in front of her. _

_After a few minutes they reached the edge of the wood that encircled Rivendell and Isilme tugged on his mane to stop him; but got no response. She felt fear settle into her stomach like a clump of ice. _

"_Daro!" She cried out, close to tears. To her surprise he came to an instant sliding stop, his back legs disappearing under him for a split second as he came to a halt in a cloud of dust. Stop! _

_Turning his great head he nuzzled at her leg reassuringly. Considering that he had responded to an elvish command she wondered if, as one of the Mearas, he could understand what she was saying. She decided it was worth a go. _

"_Thank you for saving me. But we need to go back; my brothers are there and might need help." She spoke in Sindarin. Swinging around he took off at a gentle canter back into the trees. Now that he wasn't going like a bat out of the proverbial she had a chance to admire his smooth movement, the way he gracefully held his head, his neck arched. The way his muscles moved like liquid under his beautiful black coat. _

_After nearly ten minutes they were nearing the spot that Isilme had nearly met a rather sticky end. Slowing to a walk Isilme listened desperately for the sounds of battle, but there was only silence. Biting her lip she decided to risk being discovered, it wasn't as if she couldn't get out of there quick enough! Taking a deep breath she called out._

"_Elladan, Elrohir! I'm here! Are you okay?" there was no answer for a few minutes then a blue finch whistled off to her right, breaking the silence. Then it hit Isilme. Blue Finches? At **this** time of year!? _

_Subconsciously guiding the horse with her knees she turned right into the trees keeping an eye out for her brothers. When she saw them she felt her shoulder sag in relief. They were both fine, stood in the middle of the clearing as if there wasn't a pile of orc bodies piled shoulder high behind them. Flinging herself off of her saviour she ran towards them gathering them up into a tight embrace._

"_What did you do the whistle for!? I thought you were in danger! You're only supposed to use the whistle if it isn't safe!" she exclaimed. Elladan looked rather guilty. "Sorry Isilme, we were testing you on what we had taught you is all. You're right. It probably wasn't the ideal time to do so."_

_At only one hundred years old her head barely reached the bottom of their chests and she sniffled as they gently stoked her hair and whispered soothingly to her. Hooking two fingers under her chin Elrohir raised her head to look at him. _

"_Your safe now, well done little one. Your reactions were fantastic. You should be proud of yourself, we are." Isilme blushed bright red, she was not used to receiving praise. "And now, I think it is time to find out a little more about your friend." Isilme gave a start, she had forgotten about her mysterious companion. Turning around she was surprised to actually see him still stood there. He was looking at her expectantly, head held slightly to one side as he gazed at her through wise, knowing brown eyes. Breaking away from her brothers she walked slowly towards him. Stretching out a hand she held it flat. Lowering his head he sniffed gently at her hand, nuzzling it before he moved forward and placed his great head in her chest. Eyes widening in amazement Isilme raised a hand to his neck and stroked him gently. _

_Looking back at the twins with a grin on her face she was surprised at the mixed looks of joy and unbelieving shock on their faces. _

"_What's the matter?" she asked; fearful that they were going to send her new found friend away. Elladan shook his head. _

"_You have been found and accepted by one of the Mears Isilme, there is very few things that equivalent to such an honour. He will stay with you for life now, your protector and companion for always." Isilme gasped, stood there gaping like a fish she turned back to face the great animal in front of her. He was looking at her like he knew exactly what had been said, which, in all fairness, he probably did. "You should choose a name for him." Elladan prompted. Now that she was over the shock, she felt a great joy bubbling up within her, she did not get on with the other elflings, she was to different, and love her brothers as she did; it would be nice to have a real friend, that wasn't tied to her by family, adopted or otherwise. She knew the perfect name for him, and she was sure he would love it to._

"_Morsul." She stated finally. "For he was as swift as the wind when he got me out of the mess I was in, and black as the midnight sky is his coat. The Black Wind." Elladan and Elrohir nodded their head in approval, smiling softly. She looked questionably at the Mearas. "Morsul?" she asked him. Her reply was a deafening whinny as he reared up on his hind legs before crashing down to the earth again as his whinny echoed around the valley. "I'll take that as a yes." she muttered dryly. _

_Swinging up onto his back she smiled proudly as she rode in the middle of the walking twins as they made their way back to Rivendell. Life was looking up._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Isilme was jolted out of her thoughts by said horse nudging her in the back. Shaking her head she stoked him tenderly between the eyes. He was nearly two thousand years old and showed no sign of aging yet. Not even elven horses were known to last so long. Obviously something to do with being of the Mearas she decided. Shaking her head and sighing she scooped up the small cub in her arms, smiling in a motherly fashion as he wriggled and squirmed until he was completely comfortable.

Holding him one arm she vaulted onto Morsul before getting her bearing from the sun and setting of in an eastward direction. She had two or three days travel in Forodwaith journeying east before she would take the pass south at Cärn Dûm. Sighing happily to herself she began to sing the tale of Beren and Lúthien. Sad as it was, it was long and would keep her occupied during the long day ahead. Ignoring the cub's attempts to climb up and get a better view over her shoulder she trusted Morsul to find his way across the open land as she let herself be consumed by the song and her memories.

**A/N2:** Okay people, I hope you enjoyed that. I think that's the longest chapter I've ever written in any of my stories, so feel honoured!!! Eleven pages according to Microsoft word, although that's probably nothing on here! (rolls eyes) Well, please R&R. I seriously need to know if there is ANY point in actually continuing this. Feedback please! Enjoy….

Love

SilverUnicorn66

xXx


	4. Arrival at Destination One

**Chapter Four**

**A/N:** Hey guys, to the people reading this, I hope you enjoy, please, please PLEASE review, because I'm considering scrapping this… Thanks. Read on!

(For Disclaimer go see chapter one!)

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been many weeks since that night the threesome had spent under the hill in Forodwaith. Isilme was in no great hurry and had taken her time passing through the land, stopping, after a week or so, to rest for a few days. After nearly two weeks the tiny cub she had cared for was no more. Under her love and care, good food and a warm fire at night, he had grown swiftly. Still far from fully grown he was now about the right size for a wolf of his age and to big to be carried in the saddle.

It had been with great sadness that she had whispered her goodbye to him that morning about a week ago. He had looked up at her in confusion, his head cocked to the side as he strove to understand what she was asking of him, and why. Eventually, she had got onto Morsul, and galloped off, looking back over her shoulder to see him stood sadly in the dust. When she looked back once again, he was gone.

She had told herself it was for the best; it wasn't fair to Morsul to carry them both and he was far too big to hold in her arms. When she had made camp that night, it had been with a heavy heart that she recalled how he would always playfully 'attack' the food she produced, and curl up to her at night.

So therefore; it had been with amazement and a rather considerable amount of joy; that she had seen him lope into her camp, panting, sides heaving, but a joyful look in his eye. Immediately she had fetched him water, and watched in shock as he lapped it up in a mere moment, before tearing into the carcass she tossed at him. She had assumed he would maybe wander for a few days and then be adopted by a pack, but it appeared he was dead set on staying with his two friends. Looking at Morsul she considered it. His look said it all to her; 'If he can keep up, he can stay.'

And so their routine formed; spending the night together, then Morsul and Isilme journeying on alone; and meeting Mordo (as she had named the wolf) at camp in the evening. She had decided to name him Mordo, which was Quenyan for 'Shadow', because he seemed to melt into the shadows and appear from them again faster than she could blink.

This had been going on for a while now, and yet it still didn't cease to amaze her how he managed to catch up with them on an evening. However, she decided not to dwell on it.

As winter began to creep in Isilme was glad of the two warm bodies next to her at night. It wasn't that she felt the cold: she just found it comforting to have the two great beasts lying protectively on either side of her. Many days passed thus, and soon they were passing between the Misty and Grey mountain gap, Mirkwood spread out before her. Smiling to herself she urged Morsul onwards, they still had a while to go.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Many more weeks had passed from the night they had bridged the mountain gap and they were now at the entrance to the Old Forest Road that would lead her to the Mountains of Mirkwood where the Woodland Elves made their home. Peering wonderingly into the darkness her keen eyes perceived dapples of light bathing the trees, shafts of sun dancing and twirling through the densely shadowed air.

Absentmindedly stroking Morsul's gleaming neck she urged him onwards into the trees smiling at the arch like shape the entwined branches above her head made. They travelled late on into that day, or as far as she could tell, the deeper they got into the great forest the harder it got for the sunlight to worm its way through the dense foliage.

Later that night Mordo joined them, seeming perfectly at home and relaxed in the dangerous forest. Isilme knew of the giant spiders who roamed it, as well as the fortress of Dol Guldur in the southern part of the wood, but she was far from spider territory and Dol Guldur had been empty for many hundreds of years, evil just seemed to be attracted to it and it was simply best to stay clear.

Their journey continued until the next day, when, as evening began to wrap the world in her sweet embrace, Isilme became aware of several beings approaching her from either side. Pulling the black hood of her midnight black cloak up over her head she commanded Morsul to slow, and then stop. She waited expectantly, sighing when no one appeared. Internally rolling her eyes she cleared her voice softly and kept her voice low.

"I know you are there Archers of Greenwood the Great. You have been tracking me since noon. Will you not make yourselves known to me? It is only now you have advanced closer to me, I promise I am no threat."

After waiting patiently for a few moments where the only sound was that of the small animals in the undergrowth, several tall, blond haired blue eyed males dropped down from a great height and landed directly in front and around her. Morsul tossed his head and snorted warningly at them as their bows came dangerously close. Soothing her irate horse with a pat on the neck she cocked her head to the side.

"Will you not speak?" she questioned quietly, amusement lacing her tone as, totally at ease, she allowed her eyes to wander admiringly over their bows and long knives. At last her eyes met up with the stunning blue ones of the Elf in front of her. She waited.

"Traveller, before we can allow you to venture further we must enquire after your intentions and so forth." Isilme nodded thoughtfully, it was as she had expected, and although the Ellon speaking to her was being perfectly courteous, the warning came through loud and clear. _Do as I say, or don't do at all._

Suddenly, another Ellon, bearing a remarkable resemblance to the first stepped forward hesitantly, before looking to the one she had spoken to for permission to speak. Having been granted it he looked upon Morsul with wonder in his fair eyes. Isilme smiled to herself, he had noticed. Finally he broke the silence.

"Unless you have laid some bewitchment upon my eyes good traveller, then I can only presume that this great stallion you ride is of the Mearas! Am I right?" there was hope and wonder in his voice as he slowly outstretched a flat hand for Morsul to investigate. Isilme smiled.

"Indeed he is Master Greenleaf." She replied grinning to herself, her face hidden in the dark folds of her hood. Six pairs of eyes swung up to hers in shock, before, quick as lightning, arrows were being levelled in her direction. Still she remained relaxed. The seemingly leader of the small group of Archers regarded her suspiciously.

"How do you know the Prince upon sight? Who are you? Speak!" Isilme sighed, deciding to lower her hood; maybe they would be less hostile to a woman. Several gasps greeted her revelation but she ignored them.

"I shall answer you're questions in order my dear Archer. I knew the Prince upon sight because of that rather intricate clasp he has on his cloak. It is the sign of the house of Thandruil is not? And judging by his age, he could not be the eldest Son of Thandruil's, and he could hardly be one of the two daughters! So that only left Prince Legolas Greenleaf for me to assume he was." Said Prince was blushing slightly, fiddling nervously with the clasp, it really was rather intricate, overly so maybe he thought.

"And in answer to your second question;" She continued. "I am Lady Silme-Ranna, adopted daughter of Lord Elrond Perihdil, Light of the Night Sky, The Black Swan. Would you care for more titles? I have rather a collection." The leader stared at her with raised eyebrows before clearing his throat and continuing. "Nay My Lady, that will be fine. I hope you do not take grievance at our swift judgement of you, times are hard at the moment, what with Orcs massing in the South of the forest, and we are wary of strange travellers, especially those in all black upon black steeds. If you gather my meaning." Isilme nodded, oh how she did. She shook off the gloomy feeling and smiled.

"Nay Good Prince Lólindir. I did not." He looked at her in amazement for a moment and then shook his head ruefully.

"The clasp?" he asked. She just smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After getting over the fact that the strange women had recognised their two Princes straight away the Elves offered to escort her to the Palace as things were quiet this side of the forest. Isilme chattered merrily with them, laughing and joking, talking about Morsul and how they had found each other, relating some of the antics herself, Elladan and Elrohir had gotten up to over the years. Isilme was amazed at how easily she had fitted in with the strangers. She was usually shy and quiet, preferring to let the others do the talking. She couldn't deny how happy she felt at holding a conversation with several elves successfully and not running away from the pressure. As they drew up to the Mountains of Mirkwood Isilme stared in open admiration. The great fortress and castle had been carved out of the mountainside. The trees stopping a few yards in front of the walls that reached up and up and up; seemingly forever, topped with great turrets and towers. The Mirkwood elves had stopped to allow her to admire their home.

"Do you like it?" Prince Lólindir asked raising an eyebrow. Isilme laughed.

"Can you not tell? I love it! Its beautiful, maybe slightly more closed in than I would expect a home of woodelves to be, but beautiful none the less." The Prince nodded and smiled at the fair summary.

"If you like the outside My Lady, you will definitely like the inside! I am glad it pleases you." Isilme nodded her head graciously. Patting Morsul's neck she asked for them to wait a minute longer. Glancing at each other in confusion they nodded, waiting to see what the strange Elleth would do next. Ignoring them she closed her eyes, allowing her mind to search for the presence of Mordo, he was a few leagues away, but not beyond her strengths. Starting to whistle she relayed a message to him, telling him she was entering the Mirkwood Palace and he was not to attempt to follow as he may be shot. He replied with that strange 'mind messaging' technique he used, telling her it was fine, he would roam the wood, and he would be waiting for her whenever she was ready. Whistling her next message to him, thanking him for his patience and that she would try and find him tomorrow, she cut the link off and opened her eyes again. Several confused faces stared back at her.

"And what exactly was that…?" Lólindir asked uncertainly. Isilme just laughed.

"I was just telling my companion to wait for me in the forest." Lólindir looked at her strangely.

"Why doesn't he just come into the palace?" Isilme chuckled softly.

"I don't think your people would stop to ask _why_ a wolf was wandering around unchecked; I think they'd just shoot him. Don't you?" The prince went to say something and then obviously decided against it. "I'm not even going to ask," He muttered wryly. "Wise decision!" she replied, urging Morsul on into a slow walk as one of the elves with her called for the gates to be opened.

As they opened Isilme craned her neck, trying to see everything at once as she entered the large underground city. As they entered the gates they were in a great courtyard with many tunnels branching off of it. Dismounting Morsul she removed her pack from his back before kissing him on the nose and having a similar conversation with him that she had with Mordo. Turning on his hocks, he cantered out of the still open gates, disappearing into the tree line. The elves passing through the courtyard stared in wonder at the black robed figure accompanied by the two Princes and the best archers of Mirkwood while their great black horse cantered out of the gates. Pulling her hood up over her head once more Isilme motioned silently for the Princes to take her where they would.

Lólindir walked on one side of her while Legolas walked on the other, the others spread out behind her. Lólindir glanced at her. "I take it you wish to see our King?" he asked her quietly. She nodded. "It is of a personal matter, as well as a diplomatic one." She replied just as quietly. He simply bowed his head briefly in acquisition.

They lead her through one of the tunnels which soon opened out into another smaller courtyard bustling with activity, smaller streets leading off of the sides and doors to houses and shops lining the walls. Again and again they passed through tunnels that took them deeper and deeper into the mountain. After one or two more open courtyards they were deep inside the mountain, the courtyards no longer open, but enclosed.

Eventually they came to the Palace Gates. Murmuring the password Prince Lólindir motioned for her to go through. Once again flanking her, the two princes walked along tall and regally, nodding respectfully at various Lords and Ladies that raised a hand in greeting along their way. The elves that had accompanied them split off with murmured goodbyes, promising to catch up with them later.

Isilme stared in wonder, the hall, for all it was deep inside the mountain, was light and airy, decorated with intricate carvings hewn into the wood. Casting her eyes about in wonderment as she walked into the Great Hall she almost missed the imposing figure of the Woodland King sat on his raised throne at the opposite end. He was regarding her with old, wise curious eyes. As the three of them reached the steps leading up to his throne they stopped; the two Princes stood tall, regarding their father with respectful, yet loving, stares.

"King Thandruil, our Father and King. We bring to you Lady Silme-Ranna, of the House Perihdil, Light of the Night Sky, The Black Swan. These are but a select few of her many titles; we bring her to you in all of your Excellency, she comes on both a Personal and Diplomatic mission. Will you accept audience with her? Or would you have us escort her to the edge of the forest and see her on her way?" Prince Lólindir finished his speech, waiting for his father to pass judgement. By now Isilme had lowered her hood, returning the King's steady gaze with an equally curious one of her own. A few minutes past in silence.

Then suddenly he laughed, it transformed his face, going from stony seriousness, to the heights of joy. "I will speak with the good Lady my sons, if you will excuse us, would you mind sending one of the servants with wine and some small delicacies? I am sure the Lady is hungry and thirsty after her long journey. Please my dear, come, sit." He gestured to a small chair that a servant had whipped up out of nowhere. Smiling graciously Isilme removed her cloak and, draping it across the back of the small chair, lowered herself gracefully down, crossing her legs neatly and laying her bow, quiver of arrows and long knives down on the floor, folding her hands in her lap and waiting for the King to make the first move.

As the two bothers left the hall, smiling and bowing to both their father and Isilme, Thandruil turned and smiled warmly at the young Elleth sitting in front of him. She was quite a beauty. Long, deep black hair cascading down her back to her waist, her heart shaped face sporting high cheekbones that framed deep, azure blue eyes. Intricate braids keeping half her hair back in, he noted with amusement, the style of a Mirkwood Archer.

As a servant poured the wine she raised her goblet to him and smiled. "To Greenwood the Great, and her King." Thandruil raised an eyebrow. "Not many know this beautiful forest by its former name anymore, how come you do My Lady?" Isilme laughed, setting her goblet down on the small table that had been brought before them. "I am a great lover of history, and having grown up in Imladris I have had access to many great books of history and law that many do not have the pleasure of being able to read." Thandruil raised an eyebrow.

"I had forgotten that you were adopted by Lord Elrond. How old must you be now? Two millennia's? Two and a half?"

"Two." Isilme replied chuckling. Thandruil regarded her with kind, almost fatherly eyes.

"So My Lady, what can I do you for you here? My sons said it was a diplomatic, as well as a personal matter for which you came." Isilme shifted guiltily in her seat. "Well… about that…" Thandruil simply waited for her to continue. "It's _entirely_ personal, and not at _all_ diplomatic, I just thought they'd be more likely to let me see you if I mentioned diplomacy…" For a moment Isilme thought the King would have her chucked into the dungeons for treason, or banned from the kingdom, but his reaction took her by surprise. He laughed. A great, booming heartfelt laugh. He threw back his head, drumming his fist on the beautifully carved arm of his throne, his crown of berries and red leaves (for it was autumn and winter) almost falling off of his head. Isilme just blinked, staring at him in shock.

Eventually he calmed himself down and muttered something along the lines of 'he might have guessed' before collecting himself together again and taking a long drought of his wine. Setting his cup back down he settled down comfortable before asking her; "So what is this 'personal matter' for which you have travelled many leagues to come see me for, and even possessed you to lie to my sons just so you could gain audience with me?" Isilme blushed slightly at that, but the amused twinkle in his eye and the slight hint of a smile still lingering to his lips reassured her that she was not in trouble. Taking a deep breath she started from the beginning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After almost an hour she had finished her long, complicated tale.

"And then I met your sons in the forest." She concluded. Taking a thirsty gulp of wine she licked her dry lips, waiting for his response. Thandruil sat relaxed in his great throne, a slight frown marring his forehead as he stared off into space, fingers tracing a pattern on the arm of his chair as he contemplated what Isilme had told him. Finally after a long moment, he roused himself from his daze and smiled at her warmly.

"Your tale is both a sad and interesting one My Lady. Indeed, it would appear your father was Silvan as opposed to Noldor, but I have no memory of _any_ elf here leaving to dwell with an Elleth of the Noldor. However, that may not mean anything; if you would care to stay a while I would be most glad to have some of my people ask around. And of course, you must meet the rest of my family! You have only met Lólindir and Legolas but you have my two daughters and my beloved wife to meet before you leave! Come! I will have a servant take you to one the guest rooms near the wing reserved for the Royal family where you can rest and refresh yourself, we shall have a feast tonight in honour of your presence." Waving away Isilme's attempt to dissuade the idea he carried on. "You may lend one of my daughters many dresses, you are about the same size, and I'm sure one of them would be more than willing to lend you one! Now, off you go, I have arrangements to make!" As soon he had finished speaking, a servant appeared at her elbow, motioning for her to follow as the King disappeared out of a side door Isilme had not noticed before. However, the Elvin magic was strong here, and she knew that King Thandruil's hold over it was strong and that he, and his processors, had been know to do many clever and intriguing things with their power.

After being led down many twisting catacombs that led her deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain Isilme felt thoroughly lost. Yet, strangely enough, the palace never lost its great sense of light, and freedom, even though there were no windows, it was still beautiful. After walking for a few minutes, they started to climb slightly upward again, going to where her senses judged to be north. Then they were entering a corridor with many doors leading off to places unknown. The maid that had led her opened a door into a light, airy room with, miraculously, a window looking out over Northern Mirkwood. Smiling softly Isilme padded quietly over the smooth, polished oak floor, setting her weapons over in the corner by the wardrobe, and her pack on the bed. Stepping over to the balcony she opened the doors, breathing in the clear air. Turning around, she smiled warmly at the maid who was waiting patiently for any requests.

"Would it be possible to have a bath drawn?" she questioned hesitantly, "Only, I've been on the road for close to just over a month, without so much as a decent dip in a stream! I fear I look an awful mess, it wouldn't be too much trouble would it?" the maid chuckled softly.

"Of course not Milady and it would not do to have one as beautiful as you to be seen in a state not befitting of her! If you care to wait, I'll send for some hot water." Isilme smiled gratefully, bowing to the Elleth in return, and lowering herself gently onto a chair by the fire. Minutes after the maid had left to order the water, she was back stoking the fire; a warm, cosy glow filling the room. Isilme felt her body relaxing, her eyelids fluttering before she sank into a light, restful sleep. Not much later the same maid reawakened her, telling her that her bath was ready, and if she left her dirty clothes by the door, they would be taken for washing and mending. A gown would be left for her on her bed.

Thanking her profusely Isilme waited until the kindly Elleth had left before stripping down to her bare skin and leaving her clothes, as well as other dirty items of clothing in her pack, by the door before entering the adjourning room which was, as rightly guessed, the bathroom. Sighing in pleasure at the sight of the steaming bath, she stepped in joyfully, sinking down with a deep, heartfelt sigh of relief. One journey over, another soon to be begin.

**A/N 2:** Okay guys, I hope you enjoyed that, I know the update is a little late in coming, but I've been doing my Mock GCSE's so I've been inundated with revision and stress! Please review, you know they mean everything to me! (HUGE pleading puppy dog eyes!) Thanks!

Love

SilverUnicorn66

xXx


End file.
